


On Golden Winds

by Le_Creationist



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Existentialism, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4154100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_Creationist/pseuds/Le_Creationist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-ON HIATUS- I'm sorry everyone, I need some time to deal with some personal matters and won't be able to write regularly for a while. Thanks for your patience :)</p><p>Long has she awaited the moment to see him 'neath the blazing sun. With dawn comes victory, led by the Elven-king. She comes close, her hand poised above the hilt of her dagger. He does not need to look to know she stands behind him. "Respice post te. Hominem te esse memento," she whispers, and his smile is bitter crimson as he falls. "Until we meet again," He tells her with his dying breath. Her shocked face colors his vision before he passes to the darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anddante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anddante/gifts).



> I’ve been hit by a new Thrandiel plotbunny. Inspired by the below Tumblr post (I can’t remember where I saw it). Not really sure about the specifics but I wanted to flesh out a rough draft. I’m drawing from the Silmarillion for the prologue and this will be a multi-chap spanning the Ages. Possibly will include a modern chapter at the end. I just want to write something crazy and have fun. :) Feel free to chime in if you have any thoughts/suggestions.
> 
> AU where people age until they reach 18 and then stop aging until they meet their soul mate so they can grow old together.  
> What if you killed your soul mate so you’d make sure you never aged.  
> This just makes me really want a story where the main antagonist is someone who has been killing their soulmate for centuries whenever they find them, and the main protagonist is the newly re-incarnated version of their soulmate.

The days of the Trees are governed by light. The glow they cast over the land is sacred. The gods dwell here, bathed in the glory of creation. For a time they are the only beings in existence: beautiful, immortal, and alone in their splendor. Eru Ilúvatar is the keeper of the beat, the holy cadence to which the Ainur adhere. Their song is purer than the light of Telperion and Laurelin.

When the Ainur become incarnate, they call themselves the Valar. Manwë the king rules the skies and Varda his queen fashions the stars. For a time, the Valar live in the peace of Aman until the day arrives when Eru seeks to create life and the Eldar join the world as they awaken in Cuiviénen. These are the Firstborn, the most cherished.

Varda takes in the view and all is brought to a halt. She has fixed her sight upon one so fair that even Manwë checks his gaze. He is of great height with eyes so piercing that the queen almost compares them to her lord husband’s.

Her sister Yavanna has taken to dancing, the skirts of her celestial gown swirl and wrap about her slender legs. As she dances, a most vigorous spring kisses the earth.

“Thranduil shall be his name.” Manwë proclaims, and his wife’s smile broadens. The stars had never shone so brightly.

There is another who takes her waking breath beside him. She is delicate, but the set of her shoulders hint at strength to come. The young elf rises to her feet. Her hair tumbles down her back, shining like a blood red sea. The spirit of the wilderness thrums within her, even the Valië so far away can sense it.

“And Tauriel shall be hers.” Varda meets her husband’s eyes.

And it was thusly decided that for each of the Eldar, there would exist a soulmate. One with whom a lasting bond was inescapable. The blessed music swells to a crescendo as the harmony of Union melds with the song of creation.

Eru smiles upon the Eldar.

* * *

From a distance, Melkor watches. Eru is the keeper of the beat, but Melkor is not one to follow.


	2. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Oromë the Huntsman of the Valar comes to his village, Thranduil knows his life will change forever.

He _felt_ rather than saw the arrow as it whipped past his face.

Throwing himself out of the way was pure survival instinct. His heart pounded angrily as he searched for the fool who nearly slew him. The stag he’d been observing fled at the onset of the attack. This serene part of the woods was now violated–it would not be a place of respite for him or the beasts that graced it.

“I see you in the shadows!” Thranduil called out. He stepped lightly in the darkness, eyes fixed upon his foe. His mother warned their village of the spirits Melkor sent to harm them. The weight of the blade at his hip reminded him of his father’s words.

“You would be wise to give yourself up.”

The shade remained so still he almost couldn’t detect its shape among the tree trunks. His anger rose with every breath he took, until his lip curled in a fierce scowl and he drew his blade with nary a sound. There was a moment of suspension, the moment his enemy gave chase, it would be over. Thranduil was the greatest runner of his people. Let this Orc be the victim of his might.

Surely enough, in a blur of fallen leaves and snapped twigs, the dark shape took its flight. Thranduil’s feet hardly touched the ground while he followed. Less than a league farther, they burst into a clearing and distant light from some far-off country illuminated the field.

Thranduil knew these grounds. He lengthened his stride, blade in hand, fully aware of what lay ahead. A dried riverbed covered by tall grasses ended the pursuit–his adversary tumbled headfirst into the dried-up creek. Standing over it, Thranduil tore the hood from its head with the point of his sword.

“You were not whom I sought to capture.” She remarked. He was taken aback by his assailant’s identity. She was of his kind, yet her features marked her from a different tribe. Perhaps she was of their Eastern kin, possessed of darker hair than he. Her narrowed eyes gleamed as though lit by some strange fire. The chase had not quite stolen her breath but her words were still labored.

“Your arrow could have clipped me.” He retorted sharply. The point of his blade remained just above her heart.

“I was _hunting_.” There was irritation in her tone, her chin jutted upward in haughty challenge as she propped herself on her elbows. Thranduil broke her gaze to look at her bow and quiver full of arrows. He roughly kicked it from her hand. To her credit, she did not flinch.

“What right have you to defile my lord father’s woods? To water the ground with the blood of its creatures?” She merely stared like it was beneath her to answer.

“Enough!” cried a familiar voice. Thranduil released her in surprise. He watched as his very own adar came through the trees and walked toward him. The evening breeze played across his silver hair. His face was solemn as he saw where his son stood.

“Adar, she would have killed the stag had I not stood in her way-” Thranduil began.

“And it would have been within her right to do so, ionneg. For our guests have accepted the offer of our welcome.” Ere he could inquire exactly who these guests were, another figure stepped through the trees into the little clearing. A greater lord than his father approached them and Thranduil willed himself not to fear. Melkor could take on any shape or form after all. Thranduil saw how he was taller than any elf that walked the earth, knowing with full certainty that this was a god before him.

“Thranduil Oropherion. Your father has sung your praises to me. He says you have great skill with the blade you wield.” This god’s voice was carried by the wind through the meadow. “However, I ask that you sheath your weapon for I value dearly the life of my apprentice.”

How was it possible to be both flattered and affronted at once? Thranduil’s jaw clenched in an effort to stem his ire. Oropher looked at his son calmly. It was the look of a father who knew his son would eventually obey.

Bitterly, he sheathed his sword with a graceful flourish. The metal sang as it scraped against its casing. An implicit threat to the girl who tried to maim his forest companion.

“Perhaps we shall all hunt together, mellon nin.” Said Oromë, the Huntsman of the Valar and the Great Rider. He smiled now at Thranduil, though the elf was hard pressed to return the expression.

“I look forward to the day.” The girl replied evenly. She rose to her feet and retrieved her bow from where he kicked it. He viciously hoped the wood was damaged.

“Tolo, Tauriel.” Oromë commanded. She nodded and went forth at the god’s side. No backward glance was spared for Thranduil by her. He loathed the indignity of letting his anger show before his father so he cast his eyes beyond her into the woods.

“Come, let us return home.” His father said with an outstretched arm. Thranduil followed, glaring into the darkness ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is supposed to take place not too long after the Awakening of the Elves. I think at this point, the Sun and Moon don't exist yet in Middle Earth. Orome is beginning to lead folks back to Aman. Melkor has not been renamed Morgoth just yet. My point is, this takes place in aaaaaaaaancient times and these Elves are not the serene beings we know from lotr. 
> 
> Please feel free to fact check me or ask me questions! I'd appreciate your feedback :)


End file.
